Brothers Be
by donutsweeper
Summary: The Barkleys know that when it comes to family there is a level of understanding and love that binds them all together. Now if only Jarrod can make Heath see that.


Entering the house, Jarrod took one look at the clock and hurried to the dining room. It was never a good idea to arrive late to dinner— not only would it upset Mother, but there was a better than even chance that if you didn't get to the steak before Nick and Heath they might accidently-on-purpose help themselves to all of it. Rushing into the room, an excuse on the tip of his tongue, he found he had no need for it; Victoria was the only one there.

"Hello, Mother," he said, giving her a kiss before he moved to the other side of the table to take his seat. "You are looking particularly lovely this evening."

She smiled indulgently at him. "Why thank you, Jarrod. But don't you think for one minute that a compliment, no matter how nice, will make up for your being late. I like my children to be prompt, you know that."

Gesturing to the mostly empty table he said, "Surely I should get some acknowledgement for being the first one here?"

"Audra informed me this morning she would be missing the meal. The church social is coming up and she is on the planning committee, as you are well aware." She sighed, letting only the slightest touch of frustration into her voice. "As we are both aware."

"Well aware," Jarrod agreed, wryly. Audra had spoken of little else for weeks and it was becoming increasingly difficult for even him to fake an interest in the subject any longer. "And while that very well may be, Nick and Heath have no similar excuse. Considering they left for the north pasture at first light, they should have finished their work there and made it back home in plenty of time for dinner."

Just then the front door clattered open and slammed shut. Jarrod and Victoria jumped to their feet and rushed to the hall when Nick's voice boomed throughout the house, "Damn it, Heath! No, you will not! Now listen, you stubborn— oh, Jarrod, Mother, there you are— will you talk some sense into him?"

Both Nick and Heath were soaking wet, dripping everywhere. Nick had lost his hat and one glove and his left side was covered in mud up to his thigh. Heath's right arm was clutched up against his chest and supported by his left, his shirt torn and covered in muddy handprints. Victoria gasped when she saw them. "Oh, Heath, Nick, what happened? Silas!" she called out. "Silas, could you bring a few towels out here?"

Heath shook his head. "Now, now, there's no need to fuss. We're fine, just a mite damp and dirty. Sorry for the mess, Mother, and the delay. We'll just go up and get changed before dinner."

"There's no need to fuss," Nick shouted, mimicking Heath's tone. "There is _every_need to fuss. Jarrod, send Diego for Doctor Merar. Oh, and have—"

"Doctor Merar? Nick, are you hurt? Heath? What happened?" Victoria moved forward, but Heath stepped back and away.

"We're fine. I'm fine. Nick's just overreacting, you know what he's like."

"Oh, don't you start. Overreacting? I'm overreacting? How can you stand there, after what just happened and tell me _I'm_overreacting?"

"Nick, Heath," Jarrod said, his tone easy and placating as he attempted to prevent the sniping between his brothers from escalating into a full blown argument. "Now why don't we get the two of you cleaned up and then we'll sit down and you can tell us everything that happened. I'm sure you have quite the tale to tell. Ah, here we go." Joining them and tutting at the mess, Silas held out towels to both Nick and Heath. "Thank you, Silas."

Nick grabbed a towel and began rubbing himself furiously with it. Heath, however, shifted nervously before saying, "I think I'll just head upstairs. I best change. This shirt's done for."

"For the love of," Nick muttered. He pulled off his remaining glove and slapped it against his leg. "The shirt isn't the problem, your _shoulder_is the problem!"

"It's fine! I keep telling you it's fine!" Heath yelled before adding a sheepish, yet brusque, "Sorry, Mother. I need to clean up. Thank you for the towel, Silas. Excuse me." Then he took off up the stairs, practically running into his room.

Nick watched him go and shook his head.

"Nick?" Victoria wrapped the towel around his shoulders, trailing her hand along his arm before turning to Silas. "Silas, will you please put dinner back on the stove to keep warm? It looks like the meal will be delayed a while."

"Of course, Miz Barkley. And I'll put some extra coffee on too."

"Thank you." Victoria waited until Silas had left before turning back to Nick, who was still staring up the stairs at Heath's door.

"Nick?" Jarrod prompted. "What happened?"

"I don't suppose you want me tracking mud everywhere, Mother," Nick sighed as he plopped down on the stairs and began removing his boots. "It was my fault. We were by the creek. Heath said he thought the bank looked unstable, but I had to go show him he was wrong. He wasn't. There I was stomping around, trying to prove my point, when the whole thing gave way and the next thing I knew I was in the river. The current was so strong. I would've got washed away if he hadn't been so quick and grabbed me."

"Oh, Nick." Victoria gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

"I think the damned fool dislocated his shoulder, holding on to me. But he wouldn't let go."

"Of course he wouldn't," Jarrod said.

"Go check on him, Pappy. He's hurting, I know he is, but getting through that thick head of his..."

"You go ahead, Jarrod," Victoria urged. "I'll see to Nick."

"Thank you, Mother. And don't worry, Brother Nick. He may be stubborn, but, then again, so am I." Jarrod patted Nick on the shoulder as he passed him on his way up the stairs to Heath's room. "Heath?" he called, knocking on the door. Hearing a muffled noise, but unsure of what it was, he opened it and poked his head in. "Heath?"

Heath was sitting on the bed, back to the door, struggling to get his right arm out of his shirt, but it was hopelessly tangled. Jarrod crossed the room, offering his assistance. "Here, let me help you with that," he said, and began slowly working the wet fabric over Heath's shoulder and down his arm.

"Thanks," Heath said, lips pursed and jaw clamped tight. He was obviously in quite a bit of pain but trying to hide it.

Noting the swelling and tenderness of the joint, Jarrod asked, "Are you sure you don't want Doctor Merar to take a look at this?" even though, knowing his brother as he did, he knew what the answer would be.

"Nah, no need to bother the doc. Nick pulled it out but one good slam against a tree and I set it right. I've done it before, it'll be fine in a couple of days." He shifted as if he about to stand, most likely about to get himself a clean shirt, but Jarrod quickly moved in front of him and pressed gently down on his good shoulder so he would stay where he was.

After a pointed look to make sure Heath remained seated, Jarrod began pulling out fresh clothes for his brother. "Heath, you don't have to do everything for yourself all the time. Setting your shoulder, aiding you in getting dressed... Anyone of us would have helped if you asked." He guided Heath's right arm into the shirt and then held it so Heath could slip in his left. "That's what families do."

"I know that, Jarrod. I do," Heath replied, but a light blush to his cheeks told a different story.

"Knowing it here," Jarrod pointed to Heath's heart, "and accepting it here—" he said as he ruffled Heath's hair and had his hand batted away with a quick,

"Hey, watch it," Heath groused, but there was no heat behind it and he had a small smile on his face as he said it.

"Now, what do you say we find a sling for that arm and then head downstairs for dinner. If we leave Nick alone too long with the steak he just might eat all of it, and," he said, extending his hand to Heath, "while it may not be an arrestable offense, it is my opinion as a lawyer that it should be considered criminal!"

Heath laughed as Jarrod helped him up. "Boy howdy, it should!"


End file.
